


Live Fast Die Young (Bad Girls Do It Well)

by speaksuperior



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Emotions, F/F, G!p Lexa, Lots of Sex, Sex, diD I MENTION SEX, have fun y'all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speaksuperior/pseuds/speaksuperior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Lexa had known what kind of mess she was getting into that morning, she never would have done it in the first place. Well, she probably would have at some point anyway, but she can pretend, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Fast Die Young (Bad Girls Do It Well)

She wakes up at the crack of dawn to find herself wet.

Through her sleepy haze, she can feel the dampness in her underwear, resulting in a very visible spot in the front of her sleep shorts.

And inside of Lexa’s shorts, well- she is swollen and _throbbing_. She does not know what it is or what to do, but she is Heda, and confusion is not an emotion she should be sharing, especially now that she has twelve winters of experience. Well, not with anyone but Anya, and rarely should she do so. Somehow she thinks that telling Anya of her current struggle is not wise.

So she puts on her tightest pair of pants and ignores the jolt she feels up her spine when she has to touch herself to get positioned correctly in her tight shorts. She resumes her morning routine of buckling her armor, straps her sword to her waist, and tries to forget about the uncomfortable stiffness pushing up against her belt.

 

It does not happen again for a week, but Lexa is prepared when she wakes up to this strange feeling once again.

She decides to learn as much as she can, sitting up and shuffling around in her furs as she slowly slides her now sticky pants down her thighs to see better, trying not to focus on how good her fingertips feel on her own legs. Lexa notes that she feels strange; tense, almost excited.

She peers down at the head, slick, tender and flushed red, and the shaft, hard, thicker, and longer than usual. It’s sticking out from her body with an intensity that makes her think it’s going to be even harder to fit herself back into her pants today.

She notices a wetness on herself, and a wetness in her shorts, and figures that they must be the same substance; she decides to make sure this is the case by sliding her pants back up to compare the two and the cloth rubs against her and _oh_ \- Lexa stops moving, shocked at her reaction to the contact with her shorts. She tries again- the cloth rubs, and Lexa feels herself tense and tingles go up her spine, and she’s growing even longer, she can feel the throbbing intensifying now.

Her head falls back and she breathes deeply, trying to steady her heartbeat, which has sped up significantly in the past few moments and she’s not sure why. She knows that if this is her reaction to the cloth of her shorts, her reaction to her own hand must be even more pronounced, and considering how far gone she is from her usual control over herself, she shouldn't be trying things that will break down that control entirely.

Still, she craves contact _there_ , pressure on the head and down the shaft, and so she carefully, hesitantly grips herself, feeling herself grow just a bit harder in her own hand. The stickiness wets her palm and Lexa brings her hand up and down, once, covering herself in it, and her breathing becomes even more labored.

She’s never felt like this before, aching and desperate, hard and leaking, quivering with the need to do something about this unresolved tension. She brings her hand up to the head, and she feels her balls clench and her abdomen tighten and Lexa knows she is losing her control but she almost doesn’t care.

She squeezes herself harder and moves her fingers up and down, hips canting up from the furs and into her own hand just the slightest bit. The resulting sensation makes her gasp and slide back down onto her back in the furs, hand gripping around herself and rubbing softly at the head. There are little jolts of pleasure everywhere, out from her groin to the rest of her, and she tilts her head back even further and closes her eyes.

Lexa pants softly and she wonders when exactly she had given up all pretense of not giving in to this sudden (although not necessarily unwelcome) need now bulging in her hand. She’s still hesitant about this action (what would Anya say if she saw her so blatantly desperate?) and she pauses for a moment, wrapped up in her thoughts, but with a particularly hard squeeze of her hand, Lexa audibly groans and decides that just this once, (she has a feeling this will be happening more frequently than that but she can pretend), she can let go.

She resumes her motions but this time gives herself over to it, hips rutting up with force and uncontrollable need into her hand, slick with her own stickiness, pulsing and gasping and moaning. Her balls are slapping against her hand, she's covered in her own wetness, and squeezes her hand even tighter with a warm grip. She shudders, abs tensing and hips canting up desperately; it seems like her tent has gotten hotter, and she's starting to sweat. 

Watching the head come up through her hand, which struggles to fit all the way around her cock as she thrusts, Lexa can't contain a groan, and some more wetness dribbles out of the head and down her shaft, immediately spread everywhere by her hand pumping up and down herself.

Long minutes pass as Lexa continues to pull at herself with increasing intensity. She reaches down and cups her balls, and the resulting grunt and sudden tingling up her spine move her to squeeze them slightly. She's not sure what's going to happen now; she feels like she's getting closer to the edge of something, every thrust bringing her more and more waves of pleasure. 

She feels something in her begin to tense and her legs bend of their own accord and her balls tighten and she feels herself twitch repeatedly and suddenly the stickiness is everywhere, white stickiness on herself, her hand, her pants, and staining her furs.

With the release of the hot, thick liquid, Lexa lets out a moan, shaking as tremors of pleasure render her helpless and she sees stars, hand still pumping down her length. She feels amazing, better than anything she’s experienced previously. Once the pulsing stops and she relaxes, she looks down and curses- now she’s five minutes behind in her usual morning routine, and her tent is…messy.

She sighs, frustrated with herself but inexplicably satisfied; she gets out of bed, tries to clean herself and her tent up as best she can, dresses, eats, and goes to meet Anya for her training.

 

Anya is her mentor and has been for years now, some say the best the Trigedakru has ever had; and one does not gain such a title without it being well deserved. Anya is indeed extremely perceptive, and so it is only fitting that she finds out what has become a regular part of Lexa's morning routine (waking up five minutes earlier is so worth it).

One morning, Anya stealthily walks into her tent unannounced, but Lexa, already dressed and ready for the day, has been trained by one of the best and picks up on the footsteps, recognizing the gait of her teacher. Without turning, she greets her and hopes that with all the lessons she’s received about lying, she can now speak convincingly.

“I am ready for our daily spar and I apologize for being late, as I had trouble with my armor.” (the strange yet pleasurable process she has begun to partake in daily had taken longer that morning, so she’d been about to clean up and head out- oh. Oh, no.)

When she receives no response, she turns with a carefully blank face, thinking that she knows why Anya had not voiced her acknowledgement but hoping desperately that this is not the case. Lexa finds her smirking at the furs, Anya’s eyes widening almost imperceptibly at the sheer amount of white stains on her furs from just minutes before.

Anya chuckles to herself at the lack of subtlety. Lexa had not cleaned them yet; every morning the feelings as she finishes that sweep over her distract from her usual keen sense of her surroundings (this is dangerous, her mind had told her, but she had disregarded that voice since the first day she moved her hand on herself. Clearly she was wrong to have done so, because she is now stuck in an uncomfortable silence in which Anya is trying to hold back a smile and Lexa has not shifted a single facial muscle.)

Anya bites her lip to try to keep from grinning, although it doesn’t exactly work, and says, “I trust you are enjoying yourself, Heda?” to which Lexa does not trust herself to respond and narrows her eyes the slightest bit in the pretense of confusion.

Anya is not fooled, however, and tilts her head to the side knowingly as her eyes bore into Lexa’s. She’s caught, and there’s no way out of it.

A few more seconds of eye contact and she wants to splutter through excuses, that it only happened two weeks ago and she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, but she remains silent for a minute. Then Lexa asks, while inwardly cringing because somehow she _knows_ this is going to be painfully awkward; "How do you control it?"

What she had not expected in the slightest was for Anya to laugh, even if it was only for a few seconds. Her eyebrows furrow and she waits for an asnwer.

Anya's stopped laughing, but there's a smirk hiding at the corners of her mouth, so small that would have gone unnoticed if not for the fact that Lexa has grown to recognize her mentor's barely-there expressions of mirth. As for herself, she straightens her back and hopes that Anya will take pity on her and ease her confusion that she really shouldn't be having.

“It is a normal reaction for young ones your age with your…” she gestures to Lexa’s groin area, “parts. As you get older you will find that release is necessary to maintain balance as a warrior, as well as to fight off the discomfort you will feel if you leave yourself aroused during training. It is also a very satisfying ritual, although I see you have already figured that out.”

She turns back around and walks to the door, still amused, and says to Lexa, who is still frozen in place and refusing to express any of the awkwardness she feels, “I will be awaiting your presence in the sword fighting ring. Although I see you still have some unfinished work to do.”

She looks pointedly at the furs, which are still begging to be washed, and then at Lexa’s crotch, where the bulge has begun to swell again (today of all days for this to happen to her twice) and Lexa thinks she could die from the embarrassment.

Anya smirks again and then promptly leaves, the tent walls flapping behind her, and Lexa has still not recovered from the unflattering shade of red that her cheeks are burning with, but the need to pleasure herself takes over and she moves to the furs and settles in a place untouched by her earlier release (she’s hard-pressed to find one), unbuckling her belt to reach in and grab herself, stroking contentedly until she’s groaning out her finish with jerking hips rising and falling, this time trying not to create any more mess (she fails).

After fixing herself up, she strides out of her tent to meet Anya perhaps a bit more forcefully than usual, avoiding her knowing gaze with a hint of blush on her cheeks and successfully avoiding another mishap until a few weeks later, when she meets Costia.


End file.
